


Wish

by illocutionary



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 21:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illocutionary/pseuds/illocutionary
Summary: Skull settles in as Mask resumes his game. He’s in the middle of a mini-boss fight when Skull drums his fingers on the table and speaks:“I love you.”“A horrible decision, really,” Mask rattles off automatically. There’s a pause, a moment of silence, before the words hit him.“What?”





	Wish

Nineteen

GAME OVER.

Mask tsks, mashing impatiently on his controller to restart the mission. He was never any good at rhythm games, and yet somehow this rpg was chock-full of them, popping up when he least expected or wanted them.

It’s dark inside his room, the sun having set a long time ago, and he’s barely left his seat for anything more than going to the bathroom or getting a drink. A ring of chip bags and pizza boxes circles him, all within easy reach, and he even has a grimy towel to wipe his hands on before reaching for his controller again.

He’s almost to the final arc of the game, after that, he can finally rejoin society and get on social media without being afraid of spoilers. Just four more hours, and he can finally…

A quick, sharp knock on the door jolts him out of his concentration, and he grumbles, lowering the sound of the tv to pretend that he’s not home, but the knocks are insistent and whoever it was doesn’t seem like they’re leaving anytime soon. Mask finally gives up, and slouches his way towards the foyer, peeking through the peephole.

Skull’s here, bag in tow.

Mask sighs but opens the door anyways. “I gave you the key to my place, diiiiiiidn’t I?”

“Yes,” Skull nods, sidestepping Mask as he takes his shoes off, “but I figured I’d let you stretch your legs.”

Mask tsks again, and kicks his door shut, following Skull in. Skull always seemed to know him a bit too well.

Skull takes stock of the room. “…where’s your team?”

“Light Souls came out today. They’re all at home playing as well. We all agreed that playing was muuuuch more important than meeting up.”

“…you guys won’t at least play in the same room?”

Mask shrugs, “we all go at different paces, and it’s not like it’s a multiplayer game. We’d all just try and backseat game each other and it’ll suck.”

Skull doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. Mask is more than aware how pathetic the situation looks. Him, alone on his birthday, eyes bloodshot from playing for more than 14 hours straight, with cheese puff dustings down his front and the smell of stale soda in the air.

Instead, Skull kneels down and methodically straightens up the snacks, putting the pizza up onto the dining table, and clearing away the soda cans. Mask’s stuck in the awkward spot in the corner, feeling useless. Helping wouldn’t do much as Skull works much too efficiently and quickly for him to have any real input.

With the kotatsu table clear, Skull places his bag on the table and reveals a birthday ice cream cake. “I thought your teammates would be here so we could all share but…”

Mask chuckles, “Don’t act like you couldn’t eat the whole thing yourself if you wanted to.”

Skull pulls down his bandanna, the barest ghost of a smile on his face.

They settle down on opposite sides of the table, and Skull lights the candles, as Mask pries off his gas mask, staring at the twin flames.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to wish for.

Still, he puts his hands together, palm against palm, and closes his eyes, ruminating over what he’d want for the next year.

More victories. More games. More…

“The wax is dripping onto the cake,” Skull points out, and Mask snaps his eyes open, huffing and puffing to put the flickering lights out. Skull quickly cuts the cake and puts the rest in the freezer, and they take the moment to enjoy it.

Mask never did get to make a wish in time.

\--

Skull settles in as Mask resumes his game, now with the lights on and a change of clothes. He’s in the middle of a mini-boss fight when Skull drums his fingers on the table and speaks:

“I love you.”

“A horrible decision, really,” Mask rattles off automatically. There’s a pause, a moment of silence, before the words hit him.

“What?”

Skull looks his way. “You don’t have to respond, or anything. I just…wanted you to know.”

Mask gets one-shotted onscreen but he ignores it, putting his controller down. He’s…he’s never thought about Skull like that, in that way. What the hell was he supposed to say now? Skull’s pretty much his best friend, he’s known him since second grade. He’s the one Mask trusts the most to have his back in battles.

He doesn’t want to lose him. He doesn’t want their friendship to taper off into a miasma of uncertainty and awkwardness. But…

He also can’t lie about his feelings. Skull doesn’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry, I’m…flattered but…” Mask fumbles out, getting more embarrassed and annoyed by the second. All he wanted to do on his birthday was finish Light Souls and eat junk food, not rethink his entire friendship with his best friend.

“Yeah, I figured.” Skull nods. “I…really shouldn’t have brought this up.” He dryly laughs, shaking his head.

“…for how long?”

“How long what? Oh.” Skull shrugs, still staring holes into the table, “…awhile now.”

Cryptic as always.

Mask makes the move to turn off the game, thinking they probably need to…talk about it or something, but Skull quickly gets up, grabbing his bag as he speeds towards the front door.

“I’ll see you later.”

“…bye?” Mask says, just as the door swings open and clicks close.

\--

Twenty

There’s no game coming out around his birthday, so his team gets a last-minute reservation at a local café bistro, the kind with long wooden tables, brick walls, and designer dishware and cutlery.

The entire S4 and their respective teams managed to make time for the party, and so they’re all huddled around the table, decimating their way through the appetizers, laughing and chatting.

Mask still has his gas mask on, half listening to the conversation between Designer and Jersey, half trying not to keep looking over at Skull.

Who now is apparently dating Aviator.

Mask grimaces underneath his mask. Things between him and Skull after his last birthday didn’t really change, Skull continued to be his friend, never bringing up his confession, and Mask was happy enough that they were still speaking to each other.

But now, knowing this apparently not-so-secret relationship between Skull and Aviator has him rethinking what exactly Skull felt about him. If they really were on good terms, Skull would have told Mask face to face that he was dating Aviator, right? That Mask wouldn’t have to find out from Aloha of all people just hours earlier, with a shrug and an incredulous look. “…they’ve been going out for like, months now. Did you really not know?”

Eventually, Mask looks over at the two, and his insides does an uneasy flip.

Aviator’s arm slung casually over Skull’s shoulder, while Skull picks up a fry, eating it underneath his bandanna, looking like the epitome of a stable, comfortable couple.

Mask has to look away.

He knows it’s stupid, ridiculous even that he feels so betrayed when there’s nothing to feel betrayed about. Skull doesn’t owe him shit. And it’s childish to think that everything has to go his way on his birthday, but looking at the way Skull leans into Aviator, and Aviator resting his cheek against the top of Skull’s head makes Mask feel humiliated.

Aviator’s known Skull way longer after all, their mothers practically raised them together since birth. When it seems that Mask can’t quite tell what Skull’s thinking, Aviator’s always nearby, getting every nuance of his body language. They barely even have to talk to each other to know what the other’s thinking.

And Mask can’t compete with that. Not that, mind you, he wants to, but—

But—

It feels like he’s losing his best friend, and he hates it.

A chorus of oohs and aahs distracts him from his ruminations, as the main courses come out. Mask picks at his rice gratin, only pulling up his mask enough to eat. He’s largely ignored for most of the evening, only remembered when Army asks him to pass the ketchup bottle, and when Half-moon shows him a tweet from one of the AnchoV devs.

Eventually, the cake comes out, and is set in front of Mask. Black forest, with copious amounts of cherries.

"Make a wish!” someone calls out, and Mask smiles uneasily, closing his eyes.

He doesn’t really have anything he wants. More like, he just wants to stop feeling shitty and like he’s a terrible friend.

He’s not sure if that counts as a wish or not, but he’s not picky anymore.

\--

Twenty-One

New Albacore Hotel.

Mask made the dire mistake of telling Team Pink that his twenty-first birthday was coming up, and the partying squids takes the opportunity to invite what has to be at least half of the Inkopolis competitive scene to a nighttime rooftop party.

Mask doesn’t even know why he even bothered to come. It’s loud, it’s hot, there’s way too many people, he can’t swim, and he’s a complete lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Fantastic, really, feeling like a stranger at his own party.

Mask knows he’s never been an easy person to get along with. His team shares his sense of sick glee of sneak attacks and have the same tastes in ultra-violent games and comics, two interests that are off-putting to most people. He gets along well enough with the rest of the s4, but it’s not as if he can call any of them up in the dead of night to just shoot the shit or anything. He’s no good at small-talk or making new friends either. The combination of all of this leads him to just sit by the poolside, boots off and soaking his feet in the water.

“Hey.”

Mask looks up at Skull, alone. “Hey. Where’s Aviator?”

Skull shrugs. “Dunno.” A pause. “Wanna get out of here?”

“And go where?”

Skull thinks for a moment. “I’ve got a place.”

Mask hesitates but has to admit to himself that he’s not having any fun. Might as well bail. He nods in reply.

They squeeze their way through the crowd and finally get to the elevators. Mask keeps stealing glances over at Skull. It’s been awhile since they’ve talked, outside of practices or competitions. Everything kept strictly about battles. It was right around the time that Mask found a new game to obsess over and poured everything into getting better at the game. It made forgoing human contact a lot easier, at least.

But it’s not like he hasn’t thought about Skull. Mask wonders what he’s up to these days. How his classes at university are going. What he thinks of the new Off the Hook album. The charger wide debuffs the class keeps getting.

Now that he’s finally alone with Skull, he doesn’t know what to say.

They’ve been riding the subway for awhile now, sitting side by side. Mask catches his reflection in the glass window across from him. He’s still wearing the same outfit since he was a teen, while Skull is sporting what has to be the latest in Toni Kensa. He wonders if they’ve been picked out by Aviator, the squid always seemed to be pretty up to date on the latest fashion—

“Time to get off.”

Mask follows him off the train and onto the platform.

“Huh.” Mask says. Flounder Heights. It’s their old neighborhood, the one that they both lived in when they were kids and have since moved out of. They make their way to the small park where they used to play in, and settled into the swings, their legs too long and gangly to really build any momentum to swing.

“This place hasn’t changed much, has it.” Skull says.

“Yeah.” Mask agrees. “Remember the time when we trying to learn how to super jump and we both accidentally jumped straight into a dumpster?”

Skull snorts. “How could I not? We stunk for weeks. At the very least it was a soft landing.”

They both laugh, and Mask feels grateful, the memories he’s barely thought of for years all coming back to him. They eventually get off the swings, and start walking around, pointing out anything new or recalling some adventure they had, scampering around the neighborhood.

“It’s getting late,” Mask notices, checking his phone after he gets a notification and several missed calls. It appears that he’s missed his own birthday cake and song. “We probably should head back, wouldn’t want Aviator worrying about you—”

“Aviator and I aren’t dating anymore. We…broke up a couple of weeks back.”

Mask falls silent. He doesn’t really know how to process this information. On one hand, Skull is still keeping him in the dark about anything major going on in his life. On the other….

Skull heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry. For not saying anything. Or reaching out. I haven’t been a very good friend.”

“I mean, it’s not like I was any better.” Mask shrugs, pocketing his phone. “Things change. We’re all busy.”

“Yeah.” Skull nods. “Um, I probably also like—messed up Aloha’s whole plan, but—”

“Pssssh, whatever, not like I’m paying for any of it.” Mask rolls his eyes. This was by far the better way to spend his birthday.

He’s with his best friend again. Life is good.

\--

Twenty-Two

“Still working?”

Mask leans back in his chair, letting out an exhausted groan. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck this. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—just fuck this.”

Skull places a cup of coffee in front of Mask, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “That bad?”

“Worse.” Mask grouses, but picks up the cup, letting the warmth seep into his hands. Skull is still behind him, taking the moment to look at Mask’s manuscript.

There’s still a sweet smell from the other inkling, but instead of smelling like frosting or cheap candy like when they were younger, Skull now smells like mint chocolate and tiramisu.

Makes sense, now that the other inkling is working in a bakery. Mask is just confused how he hasn’t gained a million pounds from his job.

His bandanna is no longer covering his mouth, but instead tied around his neck, angled off to the side. Lately, he’s been rotating some new ones in and out. Mask finds that he likes it. He can see Skull’s smile more often.

Small things, little things like that, and Skull is in all ways different and yet still the same. 

Mask wonders when he started noticing all of this. He wonders why he hasn’t started sooner.

Maybe if he wasn’t so chickenshit, he’d just ask Skull if he wanted to go out.

But as it is, he’s a coward, and barely making the slightest insinuations is just about all he could handle without wanting to combust. What if Skull doesn’t feel the same way anymore? He couldn’t fuck their friendship up again; Skull was way too important. But what if, just what if, he said yes…

“Hey,” Skull’s voice cuts through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality, “when you’re done, come by over to my place. I made a cake.”

“Chiffon?”

“Baumkuchen.”

Mask falls silent. He hasn’t had that in years, it was something his mom used to make for his birthdays. “You remembered…” he murmured.

“I got the recipe from your mom, thought I should try it out.” Skull says, as he squeezes Mask’s shoulder. The warmth from the coffee pales in comparison to how Skull’s touch radiates heat. He wonders if this is how Skull felt like, back then. “Good luck, you’ve got this.”

Skull leaves, and Mask’s attention swivels back onto the task at hand. He takes a deep breath and starts furiously typing away. The faster he’s done, the faster he can see Skull again.

He hopes, that he'll get his wish this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
